Grimbeau

Prizing open cocoons

from inside drains

a body dry.

Such a struggle!

The sheer effort!

Yet, for me, somehow compelling;

the ecstasy of sublime writhing.

Hunger drives it.

Just can’t stop it, help it,

like the test your

strength hammer and bell.

Timing is all.

Breathe, hoist, slam.

Or perhaps a

better metaphor is

Greco-Roman wrastling?

A Dormouse in a

stapled paper bag,

rampaging like a

fart in a trance.

is fatuous:

Oryx in a coconut

gives a notion

of the dimensions,

but at least the fear of asphyxiation is passed …

(The discerning, attentive and functional

amongst you will realise that I am on a rest break).